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the one with all the blood
EVERYONE FELT LIKE shite the morning after.
Nala could hear the grumbles in the background. Too much to drink, too much cleaning up to do, too much sex to have... It was a wonder any one of them showed up at the office that day. But the admin department had twice their usual workload the day after the big charity dinner—thanks ever so much, Kaden bloody Bretton!—and everyone came to work either hungover or exhausted.
Or, in Nala's case, bleeding.
Huffing a sigh, Nala blew a stray curl out of her face and tried to focus on her work. One of the downsides of working at a prestigious company like Bretton Industries was that everyone always looked their best. Even hungover, her fellow colleagues still looked bright and perky, with their makeup done to perfection and their minds ever so alert.
She, on the other hand, looked like some sad chicken left out in the rain.
Not to mention whatever creature was inside pummelling away at her uterus.
A warning hiss from Stella had her looking up, only to bite her lip when she saw who it was. Seung Jae strode through the open doors and greeted the other workers with his perennially bright smile, as was his usual practice. It wasn't just his smile (or his eyes, or face, or body) that had her smitten for months on end. It was his naturally sunny disposition, and the way he made her heart flutter a little bit whenever he spoke to her.
"Hey, Nala."
Was it just her imagination, or did his eyes crinkle a bit more and his smile widen a bit further when he looked at her? Oh, whatever, she'd buy into her deluded fantasies any day.
"Hi!" She really did sound breathless. Either that, or she really was breathless from all the blood loss. "Did you need me to sign that again?"
"Yes, thanks. So...how was the tampon party?"
Blushing, she kept her eyes on the clipboard. "Oh, it went...well, I think. It's currently in progress, but I'll update you on the results once it's over and—" She stopped and frowned, grabbing her pen. "This is wrong. It's double our budget. Finance must've made a huge error. I'm so sorry, could you wait here? I'll fix this right away..."
She climbed to her feet and made to leave. But strong fingers latched around her arm and spun her around, so that her back pressed against her desk. Seung Jae stood far closer than he had been mere moments ago, and she blinked up at him.
"What're you—"
"You can't go out like that," he whispered. His cheeks were flushed, and he looked anywhere but at her. "You..."
"I don't understand—the shipment..."
"To hell with the shipment." He swallowed and, as if realising that he still had her in an iron grip, he quickly released her arm. "Sorry, it's just—I know you probably have your...and your skirt is...you must have..."
It took a good few seconds for Nala to realise what he was talking about. And when she did, her eyes widened in horror. "No."
"I'm afraid so."
"Oh, bloody..."
It really was bloody. Whoever said that white pencil skirts were all the fashion clearly never had to deal with period leakage. Thank God that her desk was in the far corner, and everyone else was too busy with their work (or hungover) to look their way.
"I must've sat for too long," she whispered desperately. "Either that or I stood up too suddenly. It happens, you know. When you stand up after a good bout of sitting, it feels like a dam has burst from within you. It all flows out like Niagara Falls. I don't know—bloody shite, what am I going to do?!"
"It'll be fine." Setting his satchel down on her desk, he shrugged out of his coat and held it to her. "Wear this."
"What?"
"Wear this over. No one will even notice."
"I—"
The words died on her tongue when he draped the coat over her shoulders. Suddenly, his scent overwhelmed her. Fresh pine, papers and something entirely him. It reminded her of autumn and books, and she fought the urge to bury her nose into the collar.
"There," he said softly, and took a step back. "You look fine."
"Thank you."
He raised an eyebrow when she continued to gaze up at him. "Don't you have to go to the loo?"
She blinked. "Right, sorry! I'm just going to—" With a vague wave, she hurried off in a whirl of autumn and books.
And blood.